The Sun Must Set to Rise
by your candy perfume girl
Summary: "I don't know what mothers are supposed to do with their daughters. Emma, I don't want to be her." Regina is freaking out, but Emma can bring her back down to earth. Swan Queen, angsty fluff, one-shot.


**Disclaimer — **_Once Upon a Time_ is the property of ABC and Horowitz/Kitsis. I make no profit, monetary or otherwise, from this exercise in creativity.

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"Penny for your thoughts."

Regina's head jerks up, her gaze tearing away from the new apple sapling in the backyard to Emma, who stands in the doorway to their bedroom with a smirk on her face. Regina takes a deep breath to bring herself fully to the present, to Emma and their home. "Only a penny? You insult me, Sheriff Swan," she teases with a light smile that fails to chase away the worry clouding her eyes. "How was Henry's parent-teacher conference?"

"Well, it turns out that our son is _perfect_," Emma sighs overdramatically as she finally enters the room. Climbing onto the other end of the window seat from Regina and placing her fiancée's sprawled feet in her lap, Emma continues, "He's making straight A's, he's universally adored by his teachers, he's helping older students with their algebra homework during his study period, and his short story was chosen out of all of the other seventh graders' stories to be included in the school's literary magazine. Is there anything that this kid _can't_ do?"

Regina beams proudly, her troubles momentarily forgotten. "That's my boy."

With a laugh, Emma entwines her fingers with Regina's. "He's definitely a case for nurture," she agrees. Though she could talk about Henry all day, there are other things on Emma's mind, so with a squeeze of Regina's hand, she veers the conversation towards the question that has been consuming her thoughts all day. "So... how was the ultrasound?"

For a moment, a dark shadow flickers across Regina's face. "Oh, it was fine," she answers vaguely, sliding her free hand to rest atop the shallow curve of her belly. A touch of amusement creeps into her voice as she adds, "The obstetrician said that she could spot no differences between our baby and a baby _not_ spontaneously, magically conceived of two women."

A heavy breath pushes past her lips as relief sweeps, light and liberating, over Emma. The past few months have not been easy, spent anxiously wondering if the price of the magic that conceived their unborn baby would be paid by the child itself, and the recent re-banishment of magic from Storybrooke has not lessened their worries. Emma is about to make a sarcastic remark in reply when she takes note of the far-off expression that still clings to Regina's features. "But?" she prompts nervously with a nudge of Regina's hand.

"It's nothing, really," Regina sighs, biting her lower lip as she tries to decide how best to phrase this. "The doctor just let it slip that we're having a girl."

Emma's eyes widen with understanding. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry," she replies, genuine sorrow in her voice; she knows how committed Regina has been to waiting to find out the sex of their baby. "But, hey, we can keep this a secret, you and me, and still avoid getting a bunch of gendered baby stuff from all of our friends. It'll be okay."

"Hmm?" Regina blinks twice before the confusion disappears from her features. "Oh, yeah, of course," she agrees. She pauses for a moment, afraid to put her thoughts into words. "But that's not it."

Emma frowns as she racks her brain, trying to figure out _what _about this happy situation could be putting that miserable expression on Regina's face. A thought suddenly strikes her, and her brow furrows as she tentatively asks, "Is it... are you disappointed? That she's a girl?"

Regina drops Emma's hand at the hesitant accusation and wraps her arms around her middle, protectively cradling her growing belly. "No, I..." she trails off, struggling to find the right words. She's trying to be so strong about this, so calm and rational, but she can feel the panic starting to crush her lungs again, paralyzing her body and her thoughts. "I just don't know what to do with a little girl."

"The same that you do with a little boy," Emma answers, still thoroughly confused. "Isn't that the point of all the gender-neutral clothes and toys?"

"No! I—" Regina huffs, broken off by the constricting of her throat as tears form in her eyes. She still hates crying, and hates letting anyone — even Emma — see her cry even more, so she lowers her head and stares down at the diamond on her left ring finger. Emma notices her distress, though, and sits up straighter in alarm. "I just... I knew what a good father-daughter relationship was supposed to look like, so when I adopted Henry, I just reversed that, and it worked, but..." The desire for comfort finally outweighs her embarrassment at being seen with tears streaming down her face, and she raises her gaze to meet Emma's. "I don't know what mothers are supposed to do with their daughters. Emma, I don't want to be _her_."

Emma can feel her heart breaking as she scoots closer to Regina, cupping the other woman's cheeks with her hands. "Hey," she soothes. "You're not your mother, Regina."

"No, I was worse," Regina sobs. Because all of the progress that she's made with Emma and Henry has not completely erased her self-destructive need to push people away when she is at her most vulnerable, she adds, "Just ask your mother; she thought of me as her mother, once," and waits for Emma to draw away.

But instead, Emma leans in closer and laces her fingers through Regina's long, dark hair. "_Was_," Emma insists, refusing to allow Regina's invocation of Snow White to disarm her. It's taken her a while, but she's finally learned how to look beneath this particular self-defense mechanism. After all, Emma understands better than anyone else the urge to withdraw from emotional intimacy. "Past tense. I wouldn't be having a baby with you otherwise."

Regina's gasping sobs begin to slow at this reassurance, the sensation of Emma's thumbs brushing away her tears grounding her. "What if she hates me?" she finally whispers. She can't quite force herself to add _like I hated her_, but Emma picks up on the unspoken addendum anyway.

"That's not possible," she replies, blonde curls quivering as she shakes her head. "Your mother, in the end, refused to give up her quest for control. She chose power." Regina exhales sharply as the memory of Cora's crumpled, twitching form, unable to speak for the blood filling her mouth, settles heavily between the two women. "But you chose love, Regina. You chose our family."

At this, Regina sinks into Emma's arms, awkwardly maneuvering around her swollen middle to do so. "How is it that you know just the right thing to say?" she whispers, muffled, into Emma's shoulder. She's still not used to this, being able not only to share her deepest, darkest secrets, but receiving genuine relief and comfort in return. After a lifetime of anger and loneliness, it's both wonderful and bewildering at the same time.

"It helps that everything I've said is true," Emma says, gently stroking Regina's hair. With a quick kiss of Regina's forehead, she adds, "I know that this isn't going to be easy, and that we're going to make mistakes — hell, I still don't even know how to change a diaper — but this little girl is going to be welcomed into the world by two mothers and a big brother who already love her so much. That's a huge step in the right direction, at least in my book."

Tears glistening in her eyes once more, Regina leans up to press a kiss against Emma's lips, trying to communicate the overwhelming amount of love and gratitude that she can't seem to put into words. She worries for a moment that Emma won't understand, won't know how much this means to her, but then Emma's hand joins Regina's atop Regina's rounded abdomen, and everything in that moment is beautiful and perfect and free from doubt.

"Come on," Emma smiles, wiping the last traces of tears from Regina's cheeks. "Henry is dying for you to read his story."


End file.
